The Eldest Princess is Always Feigning Poverty and Weakness - Chapter 9

As Wen Ningzhou was applying medicine to her abdomen, Qi Luyao slowly began to regain consciousness. By the time the girl started prying the embedded projectile out, she was fully awake.

Her eyes struggled to open, only to see the girl kneeling by the bedside, intensely focused on extracting the poisoned dart.

Qi Luyao recognized that dart; its edges were lined with fine serrated barbs and coated in a lethal toxin. Typically, when someone was struck by such a weapon, the standard procedure was to gouge out the surrounding flesh entirely, as the meat around the impact site would quickly rot.

The girl’s light breaths puffed against her skin. Her eyes were swimming with tears, and her expression was more distressed than if she were the one being operated on. She was treating the wound with absolute, unwavering concentration.

Qi Luyao didn’t make a sound. She watched Wen Ningzhou for a moment before closing her eyes again. She lacked the strength to move; the pain was so intense she couldn’t even lift a finger.

Wen Ningzhou, whose entire world was currently narrowed down to the object in the wound, didn’t realize the person on the bed had woken up.

When she finally heard a faint sound, Wen Ningzhou’s face lit up with an irrepressible joy. “You’re awake!”

“Don’t move, don’t move! And don’t look!” Wen Ningzhou’s beautiful face crumpled into a mess of worry as she hurriedly blocked Qi Luyao’s line of sight with her hand.

“I’m about to bandage it. It looks horrific, so don’t look.”

“It’s painful enough as it is. Looking at it will only make it worse,” Wen Ningzhou murmured under her breath. “Just thinking about it makes me ache.”

Qi Luyao felt a ghost of a smile tug at her lips. A faint, nearly imperceptible grin appeared on her haggard face. “I won’t look.”

“Stop crying. It doesn’t hurt.”

The statement carried no credibility whatsoever. Layers of cold sweat covered her forehead, her lips were a trembling shade of blue, and the marks where she had bitten her own lip to endure the pain were clearly visible.

Wen Ningzhou admired Qi Luyao—she was tougher than any man. To endure such a serious injury and have an object pried from her flesh without any anesthesia, and to do it without making a single peep?

She’s the real legend here, Wen Ningzhou thought, feeling quite inferior by comparison.

Now that the patient was awake, Wen Ningzhou felt too embarrassed to keep crying. She turned her back sheepishly and hastily wiped away her tears.

When she turned back around, her eyes were still red and puffy, but she pretended as though nothing had happened. Putting on an act of calm, she said awkwardly, “The bleeding hasn’t quite stopped. I need to keep pressure on it for a bit longer. Don’t move.”

As her gaze fell upon where her hands were pressing, she realized the intimacy of the situation. Before Qi Luyao could say anything, Wen Ningzhou’s earlobes turned a bright crimson. She gave two dry coughs and said awkwardly, “If you’d rather, you can press it yourself.”

Despite being the one who had already seen and touched everything, Wen Ningzhou was far more embarrassed than Qi Luyao herself. Her pale pink face looked more delicate than a spring peach blossom.

Every breath Qi Luyao took sent a jolt of pain through her entire body. Lying there, she was completely at this girl’s mercy, yet for some reason, she found herself in a remarkably good mood.

How could such a girl exist? Qi Luyao had been born in the depths of the Imperial Palace and raised in luxury, yet she had never met anyone like her.

When the girl had wiped her tears earlier, she had smeared blood across her face. The red streaks against her fair, tender skin were strikingly obvious, and the tip of her nose and the corners of her eyes were still flushed.

She looked absolutely pitiful—wretched and messy.

And… actually, quite adorable.

All of this was for her—a stranger she had never met before today.

Qi Luyao withdrew her gaze, schooling her expression.

“I’ll do it. Just lie there and don’t move,” Wen Ningzhou insisted.

Having stared at it for so long, she was becoming somewhat immune to the sight of blood, though the open wound still made her heart tremble. She simply avoided looking at it directly.

After switching out several more cloths, the rate of bleeding finally began to slow, though it was still seeping.

Wen Ningzhou hurriedly began the bandaging. She was teaching herself through trial and error; though her movements were clumsy and a bit frantic, she eventually managed to get the wound covered.

She was awkward yet earnest; timid yet kind.

Wen Ningzhou didn’t see it that way. Looking at the cloth strips she’d tied into messy dead knots, she felt a profound realization that she was useless at everything except eating.

The square cloth on Qi Luyao’s forehead had grown warm from her fever, losing its cooling effect. Wen Ningzhou removed it, rinsed it in fresh water, and began to wipe away the cold sweat with incredibly gentle movements.

She replaced it with a fresh, cool cloth, coaxing her like one would a small child. “I know it hurts terribly. Can you be a good girl and lie here quietly for a bit? I’m going to go see if the medicine is ready.”

Because she was afraid herself, she projected that feeling onto others, assuming the woman would feel insecure if left alone.

With her mind entirely occupied by the patient, Wen Ningzhou forgot to adjust her manner of speaking. She didn’t bother to correct herself, speaking just as she would in the modern world.

The smell of pure herbal medicine was truly unpleasant. Wen Ningzhou hated it; even the scent was bitter. Using a rag to shield her hand from the hot handle of the clay pot, she strained the liquid into a small bowl.

“It’s time for your medicine,” she said, walking over carefully with the bowl. “There are no candied fruits in the house, so you’ll have to bear with the taste.”

Not daring to sit on the bed for fear of jostling the patient, she knelt by the bedside, blowing on a spoonful to cool it before offering it to Qi Luyao’s lips.

Qi Luyao, who hadn’t reacted much to such a grievous injury and had remained calm while facing death, suddenly looked distressed at the smell of the herbs.

She winced, looking at Wen Ningzhou with a frown. As her eyes fell upon the dark brown liquid in the spoon, her face was written with pure resistance.

“I am grateful for the trouble the young lady has taken, but this medicine is not necessary,” Qi Luyao said.

“I have already taken an antidote, and my injuries are manageable. I thank you for your rescue.”

It was rare for Qi Luyao to say so many words at once, but she was desperate to avoid the medicine. It was too bitter—far too bitter—and she had no desire to drink it.

Involuntarily, a hint of a plea entered Qi Luyao’s eyes as she tried to negotiate with Wen Ningzhou to take the bowl away.

Wen Ningzhou was not having it. She placed a hand on Qi Luyao’s forehead. “You’re burning up; you have a fever. Be a good girl. Just close your eyes and drink it all in one go, and you’ll feel better.”

“I’ll give you some sugar water to wash it down afterward,” Wen Ningzhou added, coaxing her like a toddler in nursery school.

Qi Luyao knew it was meant with the best of intentions. Just as she was preparing to drink, she heard Wen Ningzhou say, “I’ve never brewed medicine before, so I don’t know if I boiled it long enough.”

Her movements froze. Qi Luyao couldn’t help but glance at the bowl. It had clearly been boiled for a very long time, and bits of sediment that hadn’t been strained properly were floating in it.

Turning her head, she took a mouthful from the spoon, only to see the girl happily scooping up another.

Spoon by spoon, Qi Luyao finished the entire bowl.

She was so overwhelmed by the bitterness she could barely keep her expression neutral. It was truly foul.

Wen Ningzhou praised her for being so brave, then stood up to get some sugar for the water. That was when she noticed the bandages on the woman’s chest and abdomen were turning red again.

Sugar water was the last thing on her mind now. Wen Ningzhou knew she was an amateur, and her supply of styptic powder was nearly gone. This crude bandaging clearly wasn’t enough. Panic set in, but she managed to keep her head and focused on settling Qi Luyao.

“I’m going down the mountain for medicine. I’ll be back very soon. Just stay here; no one will find you,” Wen Ningzhou said. Her face showed her panic, but her eyes were steady.

“Trust me. Whatever you do, don’t move. I won’t bring a doctor here; I’ll just buy the medicine and come straight back. I won’t expose you.”

“Just lie still. I’ll be back before you know it.”

As she spoke, Wen Ningzhou didn’t stop moving. She didn’t try to hide anything, reaching to the very bottom of the wardrobe to pull out her life savings—the silver the Prime Minister’s wife had given her.

She didn’t take it all. She grabbed a good portion of it and stuffed it into a hidden pocket in her camisole.

Throwing on a padded jacket, Wen Ningzhou dashed out. “It’ll be fine,” she muttered, fixing her hair as she ran.

She repeated “it’ll be fine” twice—whether she was saying it for the patient or for her own trembling legs, she wasn’t sure.

Qi Luyao watched her run out. Evening was approaching. In winter, the days are short, and once dusk hits, the world turns black in an instant.

A moment later, Wen Ningzhou dashed back in. She had already changed her appearance: her hair was pinned into that strange matronly bun, wrapped in a blue floral cloth, and a bamboo basket was hooked over her arm.

She had smeared some kind of herbal residue over her face, leaving a brownish-yellow tint on her skin.

“I forgot something!” Wen Ningzhou panted as she rushed in. She knelt by the bed, reached underneath, and pulled out her other wood-chopping knife.

Tucking the knife into the basket, she didn’t linger. Like a whirlwind, she hurried out with quick, short steps.

Only her fading voice remained: “Trust me! Don’t move!”

Once outside, Wen Ningzhou locked both the main hall and the courtyard gate. It wasn’t that she was afraid the patient would steal her things and run, nor did she think the woman’s enemies would find this place.

It was the kind-hearted villagers. She had no idea when they might drop by. If someone coming back from the fields happened to stop in, it would be a disaster.

This area was a sprawling chain of mountains. Aside from those who lived there, it was nearly impossible for outsiders to find individual homes.

Most villagers’ houses were built against the mountainside, scattered across the slopes and foothills. Chen Changqing’s rental was particularly remote. Even an enemy would find it hard to imagine someone crossing the mountains to hide here.

Wen Ningzhou had only found the cliff by pure chance today, wandering around to “unlock” the map.

She had been to the market once and knew the way; she ran the entire distance.

The moment she locked the gate and left, several figures suddenly dropped from the roof and vaulted over the courtyard walls.

They were all dressed in identical attire, radiating a terrifying, lethal aura. As they filled the small courtyard, there was no telling how many more remained hidden in the shadows.

The hall door was opened, and they appeared like ghosts at the bedroom entrance. They didn’t take a single step further inside. The leader, dressed in black, knelt on the ground and cupped his hands over his sword in a respectful salute.

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